


BD Liffter, Porn star

by Wynkat



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Glam Rock RPF, Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: Angry Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mombert knows her boys, emo boys are emo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 19:21:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1953093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wynkat/pseuds/Wynkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“Explain what? Why I’m watching two guys fuck my boyfriend senseless?” Adam flips open his case of DVDs and looks at the wrinkled cover stuffed into a too small slot. He sees the name in large red letters, and the pieces that have been rattling around in the back of his head slam into place. “Or explain how it is that you are BD Liffter? Friday Cinema’s highest grossing porn star?” </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	BD Liffter, Porn star

**Author's Note:**

  * For [qafmaniac](https://archiveofourown.org/users/qafmaniac/gifts).



> A/N 1: A million years ago I had a conversation with the multi-talented @qafmaniac about an insanely hot prompt she wanted filled about TJR being a former porn star and Adam not knowing and what would happen when he found out. Oh, yeah and a need for hot make up sex. I loved the idea and said I would be happy to take it on because, well, hot boys and porn, duh. Annnnnnd then life happened. Yeah. So, anyway, life and I have come to a negotiated peace settlement and so: Porn! -- hope you like it hon! 
> 
> A/N 2a: Many many thanks to minxie for helping to haul my confused ass out of a pit of writer-ly confusion and point me in a good direction back to the porn. She rocks. 
> 
> A/N 2b: Many thanks as well to @casey270 for saving you all from my typos and interesting grammatical choices. Thank you, hun! 
> 
> A/N 3: I took a few liberties with the past in this story. Both the boys as drawn here had slightly more messed up childhoods, at least on emotional/sense of self levels, because… well, they were being all kinds of emo, so, whatever. Also, Tommy in this doesn’t get any tattoos until around 2005 or so. 
> 
> Disclaimer: the boys are not mine, more's the pity, and there is not a drop of truth to be found within (just a few bodily fluids).

TJR: r u hot 4 me yett baby 

AL: Jesus!! Don’t do that when I am in an interview. Damn near spit my drink at the djs lol

TJR: I win (y) (y) (y)

AL: Little shit

\----

AL: rescue me? plz? drowning in straight girls. 

TJR: u lve it

AL: love watching them fawn all over you :* 

TJR: yeah cauz no one can rsist this! (myass.jpg)

AL: NOW you wear the tight jeans. I see how this goes.

TJR: gotta keep u wannting more

AL: I always wan tmore  
AL: oh thank god! Danas gone to get the car.  
AL: shit it was hot in there.  
AL: you still up, babe?  
AL: miss you. 

\----

TJR: sorry

AL: you ok?

TJR: yeah fucking fell aslep  
TJR: fuckin insomnia gotme all fucked up 

AL: s’ok. 

TJR: wanted to tell u a beddtime stry

AL: yeah? 

TJR: yeh

AL: tell me tonight?

TJR: k  
TJR: call me when u r done

AL: always

\---

“Hey, babe,” Adam says through a yawn. “Sorry.”

“Aw, is my poor rockstar tired?” Tommy asks in a ridiculous accent that sounds kind of like the Grinch trying to sweet talk Cindy Lu Who.

“Fuck you.” Adam laughs and flops down on the bed. The suite is too bright, but at least it’s quiet and empty. “Some of us have to work for a living, you know.”

“Fuck, yeah.” 

Adam can hear the refrigerator door open, the scrape of hard plastic on tile and then the door close. 

“Gotta keep me in the custom to which I have become accustom.” 

“Mmm, my kept boy.” Adam kicks off his shoes and wiggles his toes. Bliss. “What you been doing today?”

There’s a pause, and then Adam can hear ice rattling into a glass and the sound of liquid sliding from bottle to glass, probably some JD. He looks through the doorway to the seating area of the suite. There should be a bottle of Petron in the kitchen. Which is too far away at the moment. 

“- up the mock up for that jacket Johnny’s making for you. The uh, blue one, with the fringe?”

“How’s it look?”

“Sweet. He said something about more rhinestones if you wanted them.”

Adam laughs. Johnny’s not a huge fan of rhinestones, but he uses them when Adam asks nicely. And tweets pictures. 

“Cool. What else d’you do?” Adam runs a hand over his stomach. He’s tired and restless. He misses having Tommy sitting next to him rattling about his day. A voice over the phone isn’t as good, but its something. Except Adam doesn’t want to talk about errands and crap. He rolls off the bed to dig through his suitcase for his DVD holder. 

“This and that.”

Flipping through the DVD’s, Adam grins. “Jerking off, you mean.”

Tommy snorts. 

One of the discs catches Adam’s eye. It’s an old one. The label’s smudged and worn, but the disc itself looks good. “You were, weren’t you?”

“Well, duh.” 

“Ah, don’t be shy, baby.” Adam grins. “You were thinking about me, weren’t you?”

“Maybe,” Tommy says. Adam can imagine the teasing grin on Tommy’s face. 

“Come on,” Adam purrs, “tell me. I wanna know.”

“You’re a million miles away. It’s been three weeks since I last blew you, and we’re both horny as hell. What the fuck do you think I was doing half an hour ago?” 

Adam laughs and slips the disc into his computer. 

“We watching something tonight?” Tommy asks. 

“Was thinking about it.” Adam gets settled on the bed, his back against the headboard, his jeans open. His dick’s already showing an interest in things. 

“Which one’d you grab?” 

“Something Cass slipped me last time I was over. Actually I think I used to own it and he stole it from me back in the day.”

Tommy laughs. “What’s it called?”

“No idea. Wasn’t exactly looking at the credits, you know?”

“Filled with hot twinks though, yeah?” Tommy asks with a knowing laugh. 

Adam coughs and then grins. “Of course.” Music blasts out of the speakers, and Adam smashes at the volume keys. “Shit.”

“What the hell were you listening too last? Never mind. That loud, it had to be your preshow mix.”

“That loud it was probably yours,” Adam counters as the movie starts. “Ooh, nice.”

“Hot?”

“Very.”

“Is he pretty?”

“Almost as cute as the pretty blond twink I’m dating.”

“Alright then! Let’s hear what the boy can do. We need some action here man.”

“Oh my god!”

“What? I’ve got needs man. Needs!”

“Shut up!” Adam laughs and inches the volume up enough to hear the action and keep his eardrums intact. “You’re crazy.”

“Damn straight.”

“Not last time I checked.”

Its Tommy’s turn to laugh. “I don’t think it was you who checked, babe. I believe I was doing the lubing of your engine and assorted parts.”

“Of my what?”

“Your motor, baby. Gotta keep it lubed up and well oiled.” 

“What the hell were you just watching? Motor babes from space?” 

Tommy snickers. “Mmmm. All oiled and slick. You were so tight and hot. Just the way I like my men.”

Adam flushes hot, and his dick throbs. “Shit. Why the hell are you not here with me?”

“Because your label’s a bunch of cock blocking penny pinchers?”

“Right.”

“Are they doing anything yet?”

“Yeah. Yeah… hang on.”

“Tell me,” Tommy murmurs.

“What?”

“What’s he look like?”

“Little and pale. His hair is dark with streaks of silver glitter. Probably spray or something, but it works. Can’t see his face. Shit, that’s hot.”

“What?”

“He’s wearing a mask. The lighting’s so fucking dark I can barely see his eyes. They’re dark, but god, the need pouring out of them. Kid’s good. He looks like he really wants to get fucked.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.”

“What else? Who’s with him? Is it more than one guy?”

“Its. Um.” Adam stumbles, his breathing thick and heavy. Tommy is a distant voice in his ear, his breathing as ragged as Adam’s own. Adam knows that if they were skin to skin, that breath would burn. He closes his eyes and sucks in a breath of his own, trying to keep from spinning out of his skin or his mind or both. 

“Adam,“ Tommy begs. 

“Two,” Adam mumbles as he opens his eyes, “there are two guys with him. They’re both big. Bigger than he is. He’s so little, Tommy. Jesus, you should see him. He looks so fragile, so small and young between them. He’s just staring up at them. His hands are behind his back, and one of the guys is tying them in place.”

Tommy moans softly— “Damn.” 

“The red cord is fucking gorgeous against his skin. The other guy’s touching the boy’s face, pushing his fingers through his hair, getting glitter everywhere.” 

Tommy sucks in a breath. “A red cord?”

“Oh fuck,” Adam moans. On the screen the darker of the two men tugs the boy’s head to one side. The move stretches the pale line of the boy’s neck, and all Adam can think about is tasting that skin. He knows that’s the point. Its porn, for fucks sake, but damn the kid does something to his insides. 

“His skin is flawless,” Adam goes on after a moment. He’s caught by the sight of the boy being manhandled between the two men. The men are both dark, one a rich golden brown, the other deep chocolate, and the contrast between the warmth of their skin and the boy’s is mesmerizing. 

“Shit,” Tommy mumbles. “Adam—“ 

“You know I love your tats,” Adam says softly. Tommy grunts something in return. “But there’s something just fucking sinful about this boy’s pale skin. Like it’s waiting for someone to paint pictures across him.” Adam laughs at himself and then groans. “Maybe I’m just nuts. Spent too much time thinking about color schemes and plans for the tour.”

“No,” Tommy says, his voice sounding odd. “Not nuts.”

“You okay?”

“Um. Yeah. Ah—” 

“Does it bother you? Me liking this boy?”

“No. No. I just. Listen. There’s something I need to tell you—” 

“’Cause he’s not you, babe. He’s nothing like you. I love you. You know that.”

“I know. I do. Listen, Adam-“

“Oh shit—” Adam’s jaw drops as the boy on the screen sucks in the dick of the paler guy. His hands are still bound, and his face is turned up. And now the light in the room is angled just right so that Adam can see the boy’s deep brown eyes begging for approval. 

“What?” Tommy asks, his voice high and shaky. 

“This boy. His lips are so fucking perfect for sucking cock. And his eyes. My god, Tommy.” Adam reaches one hand out to the screen, traces the edge of the boy’s cheek and stops. 

There’s something in the way the boy is holding his body, the curve of his arms as they lay against his lower back that Adam has seen before. The camera pans around, almost as if it’s obeying Adam’s desires for a better view, and there at the base of the boy’s spine is a small patch of discolored skin. It’s hardly bigger than the darker man’s thumb where it rests against the boy’s hip. 

Adam’s seen that spot. He’s tasted it. Sucked on it till it turned purple and the voice connected to it begged for more. 

That spot should not be on his computer screen. Should not be on a DVD that Adam used to own. 

He stares at the screen as the men take the boy – his boy – apart, inch by inch. 

“Tommy?”

“Adam. Adam, listen to me, please.”

“Tommy?”

“I can explain.”

“Explain what? Why I’m watching two guys fuck my boyfriend senseless?” He flips open his case of DVDs and looks at the wrinkled cover stuffed into a too small slot. He sees the name in large red letters, and the pieces that have been rattling around in the back of his head slam into place. “Or explain how it is that you are BD Liffter? Friday Cinema’s highest grossing porn star?” 

“Adam, please. I’m sorry!”

“You’re sorry?!” Adam shouts, confused and hurt. He slams the lid closed on his laptop and pushes off the bed. “It didn’t occur to you in all the time we’ve known each other, that maybe you should have told me that you were leading a double life?” 

“I’m not!” 

Adam paces through the suite, his anger over-taking his hurt. If this got out, if the fans found out about Tommy – shit if Perez found out! – there would be no end to the amount of shit he would get because of it. “You didn’t think I needed to know?”

“I tried—”

“How many, Tommy? How many fucking videos are there?”

“I don’t know exactly.”

“Bullshit.” Adam hears Tommy sigh. “Are you still making them? Is that where you were last month when I was in New York?”

“No! I swear, Adam! I haven’t made a film in ten years.”

“And why the hell should I believe you?”

“That was a long fucking time ago, damnit! I needed the fucking money, okay?” Tommy growls over the phone. “Dad had lost his job, and Lisa was… well things were fucked up. I couldn’t get work for shit, and a friend offered me a walk-on in a skin flick.”

“That was not a fucking walk-on!”

“No,” Tommy says quietly. “One job turned into two and then three, and eventually I got offered a regular gig. The pay was more than I could get doing anything else, and the work was… well it was…”

“What? What the hell was it? You told me you were straight when you auditioned.”

“Ah, no. I never actually said I was straight. You inferred.”

“What?”

“You asked me if I was dating anyone. I said yeah and you asked me what she was like.” Tommy sighs. “You made the leap. Not my fucking fault that I was dating Delmy at the damn time.”

Adam growls. 

“Fine. Delmy was my fault, choice, whatever. But you assumed. You were so fucking boxed up in your head about me and what I had to be or couldn’t be that you never fucking asked me if that was all I liked. Took you fucking long enough to work it out, too.”

“You little bitch! Took me long enough?! I fucking waited for you! I turned down a seriously amazing Finnish boy for you. And this is the thanks I get? You lying to me about your fucking past? Fuck you, Tommy Joe! Fuck you!”

Adam stabs at the disconnect button, then slams the phone down on the coffee table, his heart and mind in a million spinning pieces. 

\---

TJR: Im sorrry  
TJR: Adam pick up plz/  
TJR: fuvk! I’m really really sorry 

\---

“You okay?” Brian asks the next morning as they slide into the back seat of the SUV that’s taking them to another radio station for another interview. 

“Fine.” Adam adjusts his sunglasses and hugs his tea to his chest. He’s so far from fine he might as well be backstage at Wicked again. “Just tired.”

“Those late night calls can really take it out of a guy,” Brain says with a grin. The look slides off his face a moment later when Adam doesn’t say anything. “What’s up?”

Adam shakes his head. He can’t talk about it now. He has three interviews and a mini-concert to do, and his voice is wrecked enough from crying as it is. 

“Talk to me, man.”

“Nothing to talk about.”

“Bullshit. Something’s got you twisted up, and we have work to do.”

“I know that!” Adam shouts and then abruptly stops. Quietly he says, “I know. I just… I can’t talk about it right now, okay?”

Brian stares at him, questions and theories almost visible in his eyes. Then he sighs. “Okay. Okay. You’re not gonna let it get in the way?”

“Not gonna fuck this up; you know that.”

Brian studies Adam’s face again, then nods. “What do you need from me?”

 

\---

 

Adam’s cursing himself for answering his phone even before his mother starts talking. In his defense, he’d just gotten through the door of his suite and started emptying his pockets. The phone was in his hand, halfway to the table, when her ringtone went off. It was like Pavlov or something. Phone. Hand. Ringing. Answer. Shit. 

She skips the small talk. “Wanna tell me what’s going on?” 

Adam sighs and tries for causal and evasive. “Just work. You know.” 

He tosses his wallet on the table with his key card, then goes back into his pockets for the collection of receipts he needs to hand off to Andy when he gets back to LA. 

“With Tommy,” his mother adds in that tone that means she’s not letting this one go. 

“Did he call you?” Adam closes his eyes and tries to block out the image of Tommy getting fucked— it’s been in his head all fucking day. 

“No, but he should have,” she says. He can hear voices in the background; Riff’s happy, high-pitched giggle and Scarlet’s answering laugh. “I called him to confirm that he was coming over for dinner tomorrow. Strange thing. He said no, and when I pressed him to tell me why, he said he couldn’t and hung up. ” His mother pauses and then says, “I take it you two had a fight.”

Another woman’s voice threads through the background chatter; he can’t make out the words, but the voice could only be Alison’s. Great, his mother is doing a lunch with the kids and taking time to call him instead of playing with her de facto grandchildren. He’s so screwed. 

“Something like that,” he mumbles. 

His mother waits. Silence fills the line from LA to Chicago. 

“Tell me, Adam,” his mother says softly. 

“I don’t… god, mom. I don’t even…” Adam starts to pull at his hair and then stops. He has a club appearance in half an hour, can’t mess up the image. He sighs and pushes back the tears then drops into a chair. “He lied to me, mom.”

“About what?”

“About something in the past,” Adam tries, knowing his mother won’t buy it.

“What thing?” 

“A job he used to do. Just leave it—”

“What kind of job? He’s a musician; all you boys have done things that you might not want to tell your parents or future partners. But isn’t that part of the life? I mean, I’ve spent my fair share of nights worrying about your choices and what you were doing to keep from asking us for money.”

“You did?”

His mother huffs out a laugh. “Of course. Your father was worse. Used to send me article links about runaways and casting couches.”

“Jesus.”

“Well, he’s stopped. So, you know. That’s past.” He can almost see her hands waving through the air as she talks. 

“Right.”

“And Tommy?”

He huffs out a breath. “I don’t know what to think, mom.”

“Well, what did he do?” When he doesn’t answer she pushes, “Adam…”

“He used to make porn films. Gay porn. Hard core, gay porn.”

“Oh,” his mother says, surprised. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Yeah, well, neither was I.” He thumps his head against the chair’s overstuffed back. Once. Twice. 

“Stop that,” his mom says. “You’ll give yourself a headache.”

“Fine.” He slows the next thump so that his head settles gently against the chair back rather than with enough force to knock him out for a week. He wonders if a week would be long enough to let this whole shit storm blow over. Probably not. 

“Okay, so it’s a surprise. So what? Why does it have you so twisted up, love?”

“I don’t know! I just… you didn’t see the film, mom. He was right there… between…” He stops, unwilling to describe the scene even to his mother, who knows way more about some things than she really should. 

“Between two men,” she says quietly. “Who weren’t you.”

“Yeah.”

“And you thought you were his first.”

“I … “

“You wanted to be his first man,” she adds. 

Adam hates how much those words hurt. It shouldn’t fucking matter, but… “I did.”

“And so?”

“So, what? He did those films. And he didn’t tell me about them.”

“Hmm.”

Adam rolls his eyes. He knows that tone. “What?”

“Its kind of hard to tell the man you love about a big secret if neither of you is in one place long enough to have a full, honest conversation.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No,” she says, gentle but firm. “But it’s the life you chose. And he’s the man you chose. If you don’t make time to talk, really talk, to each other, then you may find yourself without one or maybe both choices.”

“Shit.” 

“Pretty much,” she says. “You need to tell him how you feel, and really hear him when he tells you how he feels. It’s a two way street or nothing.”

“Yeah,” Adam says sadly. The anger and pain are still there, but now he’s twisted up with grief and fear as well. Shit, shit, shit. 

“And let him know that I expect a phone call from him at the very least, though I’d still rather he join us for dinner tomorrow.” 

\---

 

Ten interviews, four mini-concerts, a photo shoot and two paid appearances with too much vodka later, and Adam’s no closer to understanding why he was so pissed about the thing with Tommy. He also hasn’t spoken to Tommy since the fight. Or replied to his texts, voice mails or the one email that Tommy had sent, which Adam had deleted unopened, only to put it back in his inbox half an hour later. He still hasn’t managed to get himself to open, it though. 

His head hurts. His throat hurts, and he is just wants to be done with everything. Which wouldn’t be so bad if Dana hadn’t booked him for yet another thing. 

“What the hell, Dana?” Adam throws up his hands and tries not to growl his frustration. “We couldn’t have pushed this to tomorrow? Like, after a full nights sleep and two pots of coffee?”

“Couldn’t wait,” Dana says. His face is annoyingly calm, as usual. “Shouldn’t take long. I’ll put in a dinner order with room service. It should be ready by the time the meetings over.” 

“Fine,” Adam says, giving up the argument. “But I want pancakes. And whipped cream.”

“Grilled salmon and brussels sprouts it is.” 

Adam sticks out his tongue at Dana’s retreating back, then drops into a chair with a groan. Gods, his feet hurt. He’s going to have to trade out the Louboutins for flats tomorrow, or there’s no way he’s getting through the day. And wasn’t that a sad state of affairs? 

There’s a knock on the door just before Dana opens it and steps inside. Adam pulls on his interview face and stands up. 

And stares. 

Behind Dana is Tommy.

Dana stops at the door, an overnight bag in one hand. He nods to Tommy, then turns to Adam. “I’ll be next door if you need anything. Room service should be here in about half an hour. I’ll have them set dinner out on the main table.”

“Okay,” Adam says on autopilot, his eyes locked on Tommy who’s fiddling with his hair and looking down at the carpet. “Ah, thanks.” 

Adam barely registers Dana’s nod of acknowledgement or the sound of the door closing. All he can do is stare at Tommy and feel… everything.

The silence stretches out between them with Tommy not looking up or saying anything, and Adam unable to look away. 

Adam breaks first. “Tommy…” he says softly. 

Tommy’s head snaps up. His eyes are blood shot under a layer of heavy black liner and dark shadow. 

Adam takes a step forward and stops, unsure what to do. “Tommy,” he says again. 

“I didn’t know what else to do,” Tommy says with a shrug. “You wouldn’t answer my calls, or… anything.”

“I know. I didn’t know what to … I don’t …” 

“I get it.” Tommy takes a step forward and then one to the side, putting the couch between them. “I know you’re pissed at me. I just needed to see you. I want to explain. If you’ll let me?”

Adam sucks in a breath and nods. Tommy doesn’t move, so Adam sinks back into his chair. He tucks his hands under his thighs and waits. Finally Tommy nods and looks up. 

“I know you’re angry about me lying. And I get that. You’re right to be. I should have found a way to tell you. A long damn time ago.” Tommy focuses on Adam and waits. 

Adam hears his mother’s words in his head and manages to keep his mouth shut and just nod his head. Tommy bobs his head in a jerky kind of acknowledgement, his eyes slipping away from Adam.

Finally Tommy says, “Right. Um. So—” just as Adam breaks his own silence. “Do you—“ 

“Sorry. What?” Tommy asks. 

“Do you… wanna sit?” Adam waves a hand at the front of the couch.

“Oh, um. Sure.” Tommy moves around the couch and settles on the edge. He cracks his knuckles once and then looks up. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” 

“Right. So. Um. The movies. It was like ten, eleven years ago. And it was only for about six months. I know that doesn’t really change things, but, just so you know.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Tommy nods. “So, about six years ago, the company closed down. I don’t really know what happened. I got a letter from the owner with a whole bunch of legal stuff that apparently meant that all the films were being destroyed as part of some lawsuit or something.”

“Wow,” Adam says, surprised. “That’s pretty drastic.”

“Yeah. As far as I knew there were basically no copies left. Which was probably a really dumb thing to trust them about. I mean, that stuff last like forever.”

“Oh,” Adam says when Tommy looks at him. “Yeah, people keep the good stuff.” 

Tommy stands up and paces across the room, away from Adam. “After that, I kinda forgot about it. I mean, not totally. But I had a couple of jobs and some gigs and just… life stuff.” 

He stops at the farthest wall in the room. Adam can see Tommy’s hands clenching at his sides. He wants to tell him to stop, to not hurt himself, but then Tommy turns and there’s a moment when all Adam can see are the two guys fucking into Tommy. His Tommy. Who’s wearing the same broken, pleading look he had in the video. It’s filled with so much need. But the old image won’t go away. Adam knows that the need he’s seeing in Tommy’s eyes right now is different from that film. But—

“Then you hired me, and everything got so fucking busy and amazing. And… I just… it was part of the past.” He stops on his way back toward the couch and chairs. “It wasn’t me. Not anymore. And kinda not even then.”

“What do you mean?” Adam asks quietly, trying to bank his anger and finding more pain.

“I did the work, yes. And that was me. It’s not like I’m saying I didn’t do all that stuff. It just. It was a job.”

“A job.”

“Yeah.”

“Fucking guys.”

“Yeah.”

“A job. … I don’t know what to say about any of this.” Adam lets his head fall forward. He gets that Tommy’s telling the truth, but it’s not helping. “I thought I knew you.”

“You do.”

Adam snaps his head up and stares at Tommy, ice and fire flashing through his veins. “Do I?”

“I’m no different than I was a week ago. I’m a guitar player and a dork who sucks at talking to people unless I’ve had a few beers, and I’m fucking gone over you.”

“And a porn star.”

Tommy runs a hand through his fringe. “And that.”

Adam grips his hands together until his knuckles are white and hurting, then releases them with a gust of sound and air. “Watching that video.” He stops. He doesn’t want to admit how jealous he was. _Is._ “It hurt.”

“I’m so sorry—” 

Adam holds up a hand. “Seeing you like that, with those guys... I was jealous. I _am_ so fucking jealous.”

“I’m sor—” 

“Stop saying that!” Adam pushes out of his chair. He’s damn near vibrating with anger. “I don’t fucking care if you’re sorry. Or not. Or what the fuck ever. Did you even think, just once, how this would make me feel? What it could do to my career if word got out?! Damnit!”

“It wasn’t about you!” Tommy shouts back, the energy of his outburst propelling him a few steps closer to Adam.

“No, of course not. It was about you getting fucked by how many men?” Adam knows he’s crying now and hates it. He wants to scream for days. To run away. To tear that look off of those men’s faces while they fucked _his_ Tommy. 

“It was about paying my bills.” Tommy takes another step toward Adam, his hands flailing through the air between them. “About staying alive!” 

Adam’s voice goes cold and he leans forward, into Tommy’s face. “I had the same bills but I never once stooped to selling my ass to make rent.”

“Fuck you,” Tommy spits then pushes against Adam’s chest. “Fuck you, Lambert, and your fucking voice and come fuck me looks.” He pushes at Adam again, forcing him backward. “Do you even know what it feels like to be so poor you’re begging for scraps?” 

“Screw you,” Adam tosses back. “I had to live with fucking cockroaches crawling across my damn bed every night.”

“But you ate. You slept and you worked. People hired you to do what you loved.”

“It wasn’t…” Adam wants to deny the words, but he can’t, not really. 

“No. It wasn’t. You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. That damn near anyone has ever seen. And your fucking voice! Who the hell turns away a voice like yours?”

“Plenty of people did,” Adam says quietly. Too many people, he hears them all in the back of his head. 

“But not everyone. Not even most people.”

“No,” Adam says, the old voices filling in the rest, how he was too fat, too freckled, too flamboyant for this job and that job. “But it wasn’t easy. I had people telling me I could have a gig if I sucked them off, or let them fuck me.”

“But you said no.”

Adam shrugs. “Everyone knows you don’t get work that way. And for all you and half the planet see some damn sex god on stage now, I wasn’t that ten years ago. I wasn’t anything ten years ago.” Just ugly and fat and unlovable, his inner teenager whispers. 

“So you know.”

“Know what?”

“What it’s like for people to look at you like you’re something. Anything. Like you’re more than the weird kid who would do anything to fit in. To feel… like you’re wanted.”

Adam shakes his head, because no, a part of him doesn’t. Still. 

Tommy sniffs and scrubs the back of his hand across his eyes. “It wasn’t music. It wasn’t even really good shit, but they cared about me. They wanted me, just the way I was. All stupid and skinny and freakish. For six fucking months I paid my bills and got to eat real food and help my family, and it was the best fucking feeling in the world. 

Adam makes himself look up. What he sees shocks him to his core. Tommy’s crying. A fucking waterfall of tears streaming down his face. 

“I’ve never felt like that—“ he stops at Tommy’s abrupt snort of derision and tries again. The past and the present are colliding in his head, each part screaming to be heard, to win… what, Adam doesn’t know. “It never… I didn’t have that. Not until… not… I was the weird kid. You know that. Half the damn world knows that. Everyone’s seen those stupid pictures of me with that goddamn hair and … “ he chokes back a sob and wraps his arms around his stomach. 

And suddenly it all makes so much more sense. He sinks down onto the couch and curls in on himself. “Oh.” 

“Adam?”

He gets it. Why it hurts so fucking much. Adam looks up at Tommy, and even looking like a drowned raccoon, he thinks Tommy is the most beautiful man he’s ever known. How… why… would Tommy… “Why would you want me? After those men. After all those people who wanted you. Why would you want me?”

“Are you kidding me?”

Somehow that question hurts more than any other. He thought Tommy knew, understood. But… he doesn’t. No one does. Tears are pushing at Adam’s eyes, and he lets go, lets them fall, lets himself fall. He pulls his legs up to his chest, presses himself as deep as he can into the couch, wraps his arms around his knees and cries. 

“The fuck?” 

Tommy’s voice sounds a million miles away and right next to him at the same time. It doesn’t matter. All Adam can see is the past, the people who laughed and pointed at him, the whispers behind his back saying that he was nuts to try, stupid to think anyone would give a damn about him, would let him on stage. Ever. 

“Adam?” 

Adam shakes his head and pulls in tighter. The voices are sneering at him now, jabbing at him with all the old shit: _fat_ , _too loud_ , _such bad skin_ , _don’t you know anything?_ , _lousy lay_. 

“Adam, talk to me,” Tommy begs, his hands on Adam’s arms, shaking Adam. “Come on, man. What the hell?”

“Just go,” Adam whispers. “’Never be what you want.” 

Tommy’s pulling at Adam’s arms, his voice rising, getting louder and angrier with each word. “What the actual fuck, Adam. How the hell…” Tommy yanks on Adam’s arms and pulls. Adam tumbles forward into Tommy’s arms. “How the fucking hell can you think that, damn you!” 

Then Tommy’s kissing Adam, gripping Adam’s face between guitar-strong fingers and kissing Adam like there will never be enough air. Adam gasps, tries to pull away, confused. 

“Damn you, kiss me!” Tommy growls between kisses. “You are the most gorgeous, most stubborn…” Tommy’s words slide across Adam’s skin, branding him with each press of lips and sharp bite. Adam shudders, grasps at Tommy’s arms, holding on for a moment, and then he’s biting at the silver in Tommy’s ear, kissing his way down to Tommy’s lips. 

“That’s it,” Tommy huffs against Adam’s lips. “Yes, damn it!” 

Adam presses his tongue into Tommy’s mouth, fights with him, takes and gives and boils. 

“Gonna fuck you,” Tommy hisses. “Show you how fucking wrong all those assholes where.”

Adam moans and lets Tommy press him down to the floor. 

“Show you how goddamn beautiful you are. How much I want you. Not anyone else.” Tommy’s ripping at Adam’s shirt, sending buttons flying around the room. And all Adam can do is let him. He watches Tommy’s face and the emotions flickering across it, anger and grief and shame and guilt, and he has to reach up to wipe at Tommy’s tears. 

“Shhhh,” Adam croons, brushing back Tommy’s fringe so he can see Tommy’s eyes, so dark with lust and emotion they’re nearly black. 

“No, damn it.” Tommy’s got one hand on Adam’s belt, undoing the buckle, the other catching Adam’s hands and pressing them down to the floor, above Adam’s head. “Not shhhing. Not now, not until you believe me.”

“But—” 

“No fucking buts.” Tommy throws a leg over Adam’s waist and sits up, straddling him. “You and me. That’s it. No one else. Not now, not then. Not fucking ever. Do you get it?”

Adam stares at Tommy, his heart pushing against his ribcage. 

“Do. You. Get it?” Tommy growls, tossing his own shirt onto the couch and going back to work Adam’s zipper open. “I fucking love you.”

“You—” 

“If the next words out of your mouth are not ‘thank you’ or ‘I love you, too’, just don’t fucking even…” Tommy pushes at Adam’s jeans, and finally, finally Adam can move again. He sucks in a lung full of overheated air and nods. 

“Which is it?” Tommy demands, undoing his own zipper and rising up on his knees to wiggle out of his pants, tugging his shoes off along the way. “You love me? Or you fucking understand that I love you, you fucker.”

“Love you,” Adam gasps, the bare skin of Tommy’s stomach a brand on his dick. “Love you, so fucking much.” 

“You’d better.” Tommy leans down and licks across one of Adam’s nipples sending shock waves through Adam’s body. 

“Holy fuck!” 

“Heh, oh yeah.” Tommy bites at the other nipple, and Adam arches up into the pain, then shivers and falls back into the carpet. Tommy’s hands claw at something on the floor beside them. “Got it!” he crows as he sits back up. There’s a travel size bottle of lube in his hand. 

“Oh, thank god,” Adam says, lifting his hands from the floor to grab at the bottle. 

“Not a fucking chance. Keep you hands over your head. We’re doing this my way.” 

Adam nods, his hands settling back down, almost without thought. Tommy is wild like this and it kicks Adam in the gut to realize how often he forgets just how damn strong Tommy is in body and mind. 

Tommy pops the top and squeezes lube into his palm, then scoots down Adam’s body so he can press his fingers to Adam’s asshole. Adam fights his instincts and works to relax his muscles. 

“You remember the video you were watching?” 

Adam blinks, trying to understand what Tommy’s talking about. “Um…” oh… that video. “Yeah. I do.”

“Remember how you described me?” Tommy twists his finger in Adam’s ass and Adam can’t help the moan that tumbles out of him. He nods, his attention pulled in a dozen directions as Tommy’s works him open with one hand and strokes over his stomach with the other. “Do.” Tommy tweaks one of Adam’s nipples. “You.” He rubs over the hard nub. Adam twists, wanting more and less and more. “Remember?” Tommy pinches the other nipple. 

“Fuck!” Adam shouts. “Yes! Yes, I do.”

Tommy’s finger leaves Adam’s ass and Adam almost whimpers, but then he’s being filled up again with more. Tommy’s got several fingers pressing deep and fast into Adam. “What did you say?”

“That you were… oh fuck, Tommy, gods, more, please!” Adam’s moaning for all he’s worth and pressing back on Tommy’s fingers. 

Tommy presses in hard, nailing Adam’s prostate, and Adam damn near spikes up off the floor at the flash flood of pleasure that zips through him. “Tell me, Adam.”

“Shit! Okay, okay… ” Adam curls his fingers into the carpet and tries to remember through the push pull of Tommy’s fingers. “You were gorgeous. Your eyes… eyes so fucking dark and needy. Shit! … you looked like you belonged there!”

“Belonged where?” Tommy stills. His fingers slide slowly out of Adam’s body, and he pauses, statute-still. 

“Fuuuuck.” Adam wants to wrap his arms around Tommy’s waist and turn them. He wants to fuck into Tommy so damn bad. Or ride him until they are both raw and falling, but he doesn’t. He needs this just as much as Tommy needs to give it to him. “Between those two men. I said, you belonged between them, with them fucking you.”

Tommy pushes at Adam’s legs until Adam gets the hint and spreads himself wide, knees up and ghosting along Tommy’s sides. 

“Yep. You did.” Adam feels the press of Tommy’s dick just at the entrance to his body like a promise. “But you know what you forgot?” 

“Umm. What?”

“You forgot...” Tommy pushes slowly, so fucking slowly, into Adam. The burn is almost overwhelming. The blood is so loud in Adam’s ears that he almost misses Tommy’s words. “That was a job. An act. Something for other people to… Shit, you feel good.” 

“Please…” Adam begs. 

“For other people to watch. But that—” Tommy shoves in the last few inches, and Adam cries out, “that was not us.” 

Tommy pauses, balls deep inside Adam and leans over, lips teasing against Adam’s lips. Adam opens his mouth, begging with his body because there are no more words. 

“That was not who we are.” Tommy touches his tongue to Adam’s searching one, and it’s like being hit with lightening. Energy, need and heat rip through Adam. Tommy shivers above him, licks at Adam’s mouth, claiming, owning, devouring. 

“This is who we are.” Tommy pulls back slowly then slams back in. “This is what I want.” Tommy pulls back again, slams in just as hard, and all Adam can do is lock his ankles around Tommy’s back. “You and me!”

“Please!” Adam’s writhing, pressure building, forcing him higher; it’s so good, he never wants it to stop. 

“Say it,” Tommy demands, shifting his weight, pulling Adam closer to him, forcing himself deeper into Adam’s body. 

Adam fights back a scream, forces it into a different shape, uses his need to form words. “You,” he moans. “You and me.” He arches up, pushing himself down onto Tommy’s cock. “Just, fuck! Just us. Please, Tommy…” 

One, two, four pulls of Tommy’s calloused fingers around his dick, and Adam whites out, pleasure so good it hurts. One word pounding in his head: _us_ as he grabs for Tommy’s hand, feels him fall over the edge with a shout and then collapse along Adam’s front. 

“Just us.” 

Adam doesn’t know who says it. It might have been both of them. Doesn’t matter. It’s the truth.


End file.
